Nae wut without a portion o' impertinence.
Though I am young, I scorn to flit
On the wings of borrowed wit.
Against their wills what numbers ruin shun,
Purely through want of wit to be undone!
Nature has shown by making it so rare,
That wit's a jewel which we need not wear.
As in smooth oil the razor best is whet,
So wit is by politeness sharpest set;
Their want of edge from their offence is seen,
Both pain us least when exquisitely keen.
WOE
An Iliad of woes.
Demosthenes. 387. 12. Diodorus Siculus. De Qudjcey—Confessions of an Opium
Eater. Pt. II.
Waste brings woe, and sorrow hates despair.
When one is past, another care we have;
Thus woe succeeds a woe, as wave a wave.
And woe succeeds to woe.
Homer—Iliad. Bk. XVI. L. 139
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{{Hoyt quote
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| text = Long exercised in woes.
Homer—Odyssey. Bk. I. L. 2
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| text = <poem>Woe unto you, . . ._ for ye pay tithe of
mint and anise and cummin.
Matthew. XXIII. 23.
So perish all whose breast ne'er learned to glow
For other's good or melt at other's woe.
I was not always a man of woe.
One woe doth tread upon another's heel
So fast they follow.
All these woes shall serve
For sweet discourses in our time to come.
Romeo and Juliet—Act III. Sc. 5. L. 52.
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{{Hoyt quote
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| text = <poem>Woes cluster; rare arc solitary woes;
They love a train, they tread each other's heel.
WOMAN
(See also Coquetry, Matrimony, Wife, Wooing)
Loveliest of women! heaven is in thy soul, ,
Beauty and virtue shine forever round thee,
Bright'ning each other! thou art all divine!
Divination seems heightened and raised to its
highest power in woman.
Oh the gladness of their gladness when they're glad,
And the sadness of their sadness when they're sad; But the gladness of their gladness, and the sadness of their sadness, Are as nothing to their badness when they're bad.</poem>
Oh, the shrewdness of their shrewdness when they are shrewd,
And the rudeness of their rudeness when they're rude;
But the shrewdness of their shrewdness and the rudeness of their rudeness,
Are as nothing to their goodness when they're good.
On one she smiled, and he was blest;
She smiles elsewhere—we make a din!
But 'twas not love which heaved her breast,
Fair child!—it was the bliss within.
Woman's love is writ in water,
Woman's faith is traced in sand.
Aytoun—Lays of Scottish Cavaliers. Prince
Edward at Versailles.
But woman's grief is like a summer storm,
Short as it violent is.
Joanna Baillie—Basil. Act V. Sc. 3.
Not she with trait'rous kiss her Saviour stung,
Not she denied Him with unholy tongue;
She, while apostles shrank, could danger brave,
Last at His cross, and earliest at His grave.
Eaton S. Barrett—Woman. Pt. I. L. 141.
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| text = <poem>Not she with trait'rous kiss her Master stung,
Not she denied Him with unfaithful tongue;
She, when apostles fled, could danger brave,
Last at His cross, and earliest at His grave.
Version in ed. of 1810.
You see, dear, it is not true that woman was made from man s rib; she was really made from his funny bone.
Barrie—What Every Woman Knows.
Oh, woman, perfect woman! what distraction
Was meant to mankind when thou wast made a devil!
What an inviting hell invented.
